


That Which Has Been Your Delight

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [6]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, But not a major character, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Open Relationship, Porn With Plot, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, still gonna hurt though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10066265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Jack learns of the death of someone he cares about, and he goes to Phryne to help him through.I'll admit, I've been sitting on this one for a long time because I think a lot of people will hate it - or at least, hate part of it. I hope you'll go in with an open mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from this quote: “When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” ~Kahlil Gibran
> 
> And I’m just gonna say up front that I’m sorry. It’s not Fire_Sign level angst, but I’m still working to get to that level…

Jack stood on the porch at Wardlow, his heart heavy in his chest. He hadn’t been invited here tonight—in fact, he was pretty certain that Phryne had other company—but he hadn’t been able to stay away. 

He’d gone home after his shift, and he’d spent two hours sitting in his darkened living room, a glass of inferior whiskey in his hand that he had barely sipped from. He’d felt himself falling into melancholy, and he’d been on his feet and out the door before he’d really considered where he was going. He’d arrived here almost without thought, his feet carrying him through the darkened streets to the stately house where his heart resided. 

Now that he stood here, however, he was hesitating. If she had company, he didn’t want to interrupt… and yet he did. Over the past year since she’d returned from London, he and Phryne had settled into an arrangement that suited them both. They kept their separate residences, but spent more nights together than apart. On their nights apart, she would occasionally take another man to her bed. Although the first few times had been difficult for Jack, she’d returned to him every time with a renewed ardor. Once he’d realized that the other men didn’t affect how she felt about him—that they did, in fact, reinforce her feelings for him—it had ceased to matter. This was something she needed, and he was happy when she was happy.

But even wanting her to be happy, it seemed that he would be pulling rank, as it were, with tonight’s suitor. With a small shudder, he rapped softly at the door. After a short wait, it swung open, and Mr. Butler stood in the doorway.

“Inspector,” the older man said, his smile genuine. “We weren’t expecting you tonight, were we?” He stepped backward, allowing Jack to move inside. Jack glanced right as he did so—the parlor doors were closed.

“No.” Jack’s voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “No, I hadn’t intended to come by, but I…” He swept his hat off of his head, turning it between long fingers.

“Are you quite all right, sir?” Mr. Butler’s expression was concerned, and Jack wondered absently whether he looked that bad.

“I’m…” He closed his eyes a moment. “No, I’m really not, Mr. Butler. I’m sorry, but I need to see her.”

“Of course, sir,” Mr. Butler said, taking Jack’s hat and then guiding him to turn so that he could remove his overcoat. “Why don’t you head up to the boudoir, and I’ll send her up.”

Jack nodded, attempting a small smile that felt more like a grimace. He moved tiredly up the stairs, each step a dragging weight. He hoped that Phryne would forgive him for this, and yet he couldn’t seem to convince himself that it was a bad idea. Pushing through the door to her bedroom, he sat down on the sofa, resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees. He closed his eyes, letting his head droop forward as he waited for Phryne.

*****

The light knock on the parlor door made Phryne raise her head from the back of the chaise. The handsome young man currently kissing his way down her chest didn’t appear to register the sound, so she set her hands on his shoulders to push him gently away. Mr. Butler was far too discreet to interrupt without a good reason, and Phryne’s first reaction was concern.

“What—” The young man, a jazz musician from New Orleans whose name was Remy something-or-other, blinked lazily. “You’re not going to get that, are you?”

“I am, yes,” she said, a note of apology in her voice. “It’s likely important.” She nudged her blouse back up over her shoulders, fastening the buttons before moving to open the door a crack. “What is it, Mr. Butler?”

“I am sorry to interrupt, miss, but the inspector is here, and he doesn’t look at all himself.” Mr. Butler’s warm brown eyes were concerned, and Phryne’s eyebrows drew together.

She drew the door farther open. “What’s wrong? Is he injured?” It didn’t seem like Jack to come over on a night he knew she was entertaining for anything less than an emergency.

“He didn’t say. He appeared to be physically well,” Mr. Butler murmured, “but he rather looked like he’d received a shock of some kind.”

“Hm, thank you, Mr. B. Where is he?” Phryne felt her stomach twist. This was very unlike Jack—she needed to go to him.

“I sent him upstairs, miss, to your bedroom.”

Phryne’s eyebrows went up. If Mr. B had sent Jack to her boudoir, he truly was concerned—and he was certain that Jack would need her for long enough that she’d be sending her other company home. She nodded her understanding.

“Thank you. I’ll go up in just a moment.”

Mr. Butler gave a small bow and withdrew; Phryne closed the door behind him carefully. Remy moved up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and leaning close to kiss her neck.

“Shall we start again, cher?” His drawl was delightful, if not as deep as Jack’s, but Phryne eased away, a smile on her face.

“I’m terribly sorry, Remy,” she said, taking his hands in hers and turning to face him. She looked up into his handsome face, an apologetic twist to her lips. “Something urgent has come up this evening. Perhaps I can see you again another time?”

Remy’s mouth, which had been curved in a seductive smile, fell open. “You’re sending me away?”

“I’m afraid so.” She moved past him to pick up his jacket and hold it out to him. 

He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if grasping for something to say as he took the jacket and swung it around his shoulders. Finally, in the face of her gentle smile, he seemed to realize that there was nothing to be said. Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his mouth and gave her a smouldering look. Phryne found that although he was very attractive with his dark hair and eyes and his lithe physique, knowing that Jack had come to her in some sort of distress was enough to extinguish her arousal for this man as if she’d blown out a candle.

“Until I see you again, then,” he said.

Phryne’s smile never faltered as she slid her hands from his and moved to open the parlor door. Mr. Butler stood in the hall, holding Remy’s hat.

“Good night, Remy,” she responded, watching as Mr. B ushered the young man out the front door with a minimum of fuss.

When the door was closed behind him, Mr. Butler turned back to her.

“Shall I bring up refreshments? Perhaps some sandwiches?”

Phryne considered for a moment, then shook her head. “I’ll take up the whiskey, Mr. B. If we need more than that, we’ll call.”

“Very good, miss.” He gave her a tiny bow and moved through the dining room doorway, back toward the kitchen.

Phryne gathered the whiskey decanter from the parlor, along with two clean glasses, and headed up the stairs. As she ran up, her mind was racing. What could have brought Jack to this?

The door to her boudoir was ajar, and Phryne pushed quietly inside, her eyes searching for Jack. She found him, sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands.

“Jack?” 

He lifted his head at the sound of her voice, and she was shocked to see that his eyes were shiny with tears. She set the decanter and glasses down on the table beside the bed and moved toward him. 

“What is it, darling? What’s happened?” She crouched in front of him, placing one palm on his thigh to steady herself and grasping his hand, lying limply between his knees, with the other.

“I’m sorry, Phryne,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to interrupt your evening, but I couldn’t be home alone tonight.”

“Jack,” she said, lifting her hand to his face. “You’re frightening me. Tell me what’s going on.”

He swallowed, hard. “Elsie Tizzard died this morning.” The statement was bald, and his voice broke in the middle of it.

Phryne gasped. “Oh, Jack! I’m so sorry.” She cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking away the single tear that fell from his eye. “What happened?”

“She… she…” Jack shook his head. Phryne could see that he was struggling not to weep. 

Standing, she dropped a kiss to his forehead, then moved to pour two glasses of whiskey. When she turned to look at Jack, he had leaned backward into the corner of the sofa, his hands raised to his head. She tilted her head, a sorrowful warmth filling her chest. He would have fought himself over coming here tonight, she knew. Foolish man. He should know that no there-for-an-evening dalliance could be rated above him. He was her partner and her love. He would always come first.

She took the two steps back to where he sat. 

“Jack.” When he opened his eyes, she handed him one of the whiskeys. He took it, blinking. Setting a hand on his shoulder, Phryne slid into his lap. His arms wrapped convulsively around her, and he buried his face in her neck. “I’m glad you came.”

With a harsh sound, he began to cry. Phryne drank her whiskey in one quick gulp, then set the empty glass on the couch cushion beside them so that she could enfold him in her arms. She held him close and stroked his neck and hair, murmuring soft words of love and comfort as his body shook against her.

When his sobs began to ease, Phryne spoke quietly into his ear.

“Let’s get you into a bath, love.”

Jack nodded, his breathing choppy. Phryne stood, pulling him up beside her and leading him into her bathing chamber. Guiding him to stand in the middle of the room, she reached over and turned on the taps, scattering in a double handful of bath salts scented with soothing peppermint. As the fragrant steam rose into the room, she turned back to Jack, who still stood where she’d left him, his cheeks wet and his eyes lost.

Gently removing his untouched whiskey from his fingers, she set it aside on a table by the tub and began to undress him. She laid his jacket and waistcoat carefully over the suit stand that stood in the corner, then pushed his braces off of his shoulders. Bending, she untied his shoes and removed first them and then his socks, setting both neatly aside. She divested him of his trousers and shirt next, dropping his cufflinks into a small dish set atop the cabinet. His eyes remained on her as she helped him out of his underthings, though not with the heat that these actions would usually call from him; today, he watched her as if she was the only thing holding him together.

Once he was naked, he followed her meekly to the nearly full tub, stepping carefully into the steaming water. He sighed as he immersed himself, and she reached across him to turn off the tap.

“Lie back, Jack,” she said quietly. “I’ll be right back.” With a stroke over his hair, she moved back out into the bedroom, finding her whiskey glass and refilling it, then swiftly removing her clothing and pulling on her black-on-silver silk robe with the deep V neckline in front and back. 

Taking her whiskey along, she returned to the bathroom, where Jack had laid his head on the edge of the tub, his eyes closed. She thought for a moment that he’d fallen asleep, but when she set down her whiskey on the table beside his, he lifted his head to look blearily at her. Her heart clenched. His eyes were red and swollen, and so sad that she thought she might cry.

She removed her robe, hanging it on a hook beside the tub; naked, she moved to gather up a pair of towels, which she hung beside her robe. Only then did she turn back to Jack, whose eyes were following her.

“Sit up for a moment,” she said quietly. When he obeyed, she stepped into the tub behind him, lowering herself to sit down, then sliding her legs around his waist and wrapping her arms around his chest.

He nestled back against her with a heavy sigh, his head falling back to rest on her shoulder and his hands settling on her knees. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his temple. After a few silent minutes during which she held him, stroking his chest and arms gently and listening to the sound of his breathing, he spoke.

“Elsie came into the station looking for me, apparently. The constable on duty didn’t know her, didn’t know that I knew her, and he sent her away.” His voice was thick with exhaustion and grief, and so low Phryne thought if she hadn’t had her cheek pressed to his, she might not have heard him. “She was drunk. It was midmorning, and she was drunk already. I’d taught her that I’d keep her safe when she’d been drinking, but he turned her away, wouldn’t let her wait in the lobby.” 

He drew in a shuddering breath. “The evening patrol found her, two blocks from the station. She’d passed out in a puddle, apparently, and rolled or was rolled.” He swallowed hard. “She drowned, Phryne. In bare inches of water.”

“Oh, Jack,” she breathed, her arms tightening around him.

“I should have protected her,” he whispered, and she felt warm tears streaking down his cheek again. “She was a rare and wonderful lady, and I let her down.”

“No, Jack, you didn’t. She came to you, as you’d asked her to do, but she’d made the choice to drink to excess. And you would not have turned her away.” She kissed his cheek, her hand on his chest pausing over his heart. “I told you once that you had a heart as big as the Pacific Ocean, but I think that wasn’t big enough. Your heart is big enough to encompass all the world.”

“I wish it wasn’t,” he said, his teeth clenched. “I’m not sure I can bear it.”

“You can,” she said simply. “I’ll help you.” She kissed him again, and he leaned his head into the pressure of her lips. 

“What did you say to the constable?” She asked the question, but she thought she knew. Jack’s reaction would have depended on the young man’s. And since Jack was an excellent judge of character, she rather thought the young man would have been almost as upset as Jack himself was.

“He was already distraught, realizing he’d made the wrong choice and blaming himself. I couldn’t find it in me to reprimand him past a reminder that the police are intended to serve and protect.” Jack shook his head slightly, his eyes closing. 

Phryne marveled at him, at his control. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to hold back, in the same situation. And she rather thought Jack’s way was better. That young man would come away from this with a memory that would likely make him a better officer in the long run.

“I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to look at him again, though,” he whispered. “His actions killed my friend.”

“I suspect that it would be a relief for the both of you if your schedules didn’t overlap, at least for a while.” She murmured, reaching for a sponge and a bar of soap. She worked up a lather and began to stroke the sponge gently over his arms, shoulders, and chest.

Jack nodded, releasing a long sigh. “He’s a good man, and you’re right that Elsie made her choice to take to drink. I just…”

“I know, love,” she said quietly. She dunked the sponge under the water, lifting it to rinse his skin.

“And after that, I had to drive up to the prison to tell her son that his mother was gone.”

“Oh, Jack…” Phryne’s hand stilled. She didn’t have fond memories of Matthew Tizzard—he’d held her at gunpoint and been a friend to the man who’d killed her little sister—but she knew that he and his mother had been close.

“I could have called, I know, but she was my friend, and she loved her son. I couldn’t let him be alone when he heard the news.” He swallowed hard. “His face, Phryne…” Jack’s breath hitched again, and she saw that he’d closed his eyes, another tear leaking out to trail down one cheek. “Matthew just lost the one person in the world who believed in the goodness of him. I hope that he’ll hold to that goodness in her memory and make a fresh start, but I’m very afraid that he’ll fall farther away without her to center him.”

“Did you have to go back to the station, or did you come straight here from the prison?” Phryne had wrapped her arms around him again, and she lifted her feet to wrap them around his hips. 

*****

Jack’s hands slid up and down her legs as he tried to decide how to answer that. Truthfully would be best, he supposed. He grimaced a little. 

“Neither, actually. I went home.”

“Jack!” Her voice was shocked, and he felt her hands jump against his skin. He wrapped his hands around her legs, glad that he was leaning against her so that she wouldn’t be able to walk away.

“I didn’t want to disturb you—I knew you had company, and…” He trailed off. Said aloud, the words sounded ridiculous, as if he didn’t know where her priorities lay.

“Jack Robinson! I can’t believe you. Why would you even hesitate to come straight here?” He could hear the hurt in her voice, and it struck him hard. He moved to sit up a little so that he could twist enough to meet her eyes. They were wide, and the stricken look on her face made his heart squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Phryne, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He shook his head. “I guess I wasn’t thinking very clearly. Can you forgive me?”

“Never doubt that you are important enough for me to put you first, Jack.”

He winced. He knew how integral loyalty was to Phryne’s character. “I don’t, really, love. I just… I don’t know. I didn’t wallow, though. I did come eventually.” 

“Hmph.” Phryne tugged him back against her, wrapping her arms around him. “And that is the only reason why I’m not angrier with you. Just… don’t do it again.”

“I’ll do my best not to.” It was his turn to tilt his head so that his cheek rested alongside hers. “I never want to hurt you.”

She sighed, and he hoped she was letting her anger and hurt go. “I know it. And I suppose we hadn’t actually talked about what to do in a situation like this.”

“We shouldn’t have had to. I know who you are and where I fit into your life. I won’t forget again.” The soft kiss she laid on his temple let him know that she believed him. 

They sat together quietly for a while longer, until the water cooled. Finally, Jack stood, stepping out of the tub to the rug and reaching for a towel. When Phryne stood too, he wrapped it around her shoulders and held out a hand to anchor her as she climbed over the tub’s edge. He reached into the water to pull the plug, and she turned to grasp the second towel she’d pulled out. When he stood, she was there, her own towel bound around her breasts and the other in her hands. He reached for it, but she shook her head and began to dry his body herself.

She stroked the soft toweling across his skin, starting with his chest. He stood quietly under her hands, his mind at rest for the first time that evening. He could feel the heaviness of exhaustion in his limbs even as she dried them, though her nearness and the feel of her hands was having a predictable effect on his body.

He leaned toward her, covering her lips with his, and she kissed him back. She made a soft noise of pleasure in the back of her throat, but pulled away to move around him to dry his back. Jack caught the edge of her towel between his fingers, and as she stepped away, it slid off, leaving her nude. She looked at him, a glimmer of humor in her eyes, and continued her work. When she’d dried his back, she dropped the towel to the floor and pressed herself against him, her hands coming around his hips to grasp his hardening cock.

“Phryne…” he breathed, his head falling backward at the feeling of her hands stroking him and her breasts against his back. She laid a kiss on his shoulder blade, the rhythm of her hands slow and firm, pulling and pushing against him. Jack reached back to put his hands on her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of her buttocks. Her ministrations sped up, and he could feel himself building toward climax, but he didn’t want to go there without her. Not tonight.

“Phryne, wait,” he said hoarsely, one hand moving to cover hers on his hard flesh. “I want to be inside you.” He took a step away, his hand still on hers, and turned to face her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and she’d caught her lower lip between her teeth.

She shook her head slightly. “I wanted to comfort you,” she said, her tone hesitant. He could tell that she was still hurt that he hadn’t come to her straight away, and he wanted nothing more than to banish that look in her eyes.

“Let me love you.” He said, raising his hands to cup her cheeks, his fingers playing along her cheekbones as he gazed at her. “I came here tonight because all I could think was that being with you, surrounded by you, would make the pain go away.”

*****

Phryne’s eyes searched Jack’s, and she could see the sincerity in them. She wished that she could remain angry at him for not coming directly to her, but she did understand. She’d made it clear that she needed the freedom to take other lovers occasionally, and he had given that, unhesitatingly. Knowing Jack, he’d been fogged with grief and yet his first thought would have been for her comfort.

“I love you, you know,” she said. 

“I do know, and it is the greatest miracle of my life.” 

“You are my miracle, Jack.” Her voice was softly sincere. “I never thought that I could have a man I loved, who loved me in return, and still have the freedom to make my own choices. You gave me that.” She lifted her hands to his wrists, keeping her eyes on his. “Let me be perfectly clear on this. If you are ever in need, I want to help. You’re my priority.”

“I’m sorry to have made you doubt that I knew that, Phryne.” He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re my priority too.”

“Then make love to me,” she whispered, and rose on her tiptoes to press her mouth to his.

He kissed her back, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. She slid her hands up his arms to twine around his neck, pulling herself up against his chest. The hard length of his cock lay hot against her stomach, and she pressed closer.

With a groan, Jack wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up off the floor; she raised her legs to wrap them around his waist, never breaking their kiss. Turning, he moved through to the bedroom, one hand out to guide himself through the bathroom doorway. When his knees hit the edge of the bed, he turned around to sit, still kissing her. 

Phryne clung to him, all of her attention on the feel and taste of his mouth. She could still detect the whiskey she’d drunk before climbing onto his lap, but his taste was unadulterated Jack, sweet and warm and smooth. She feasted on him, pulling his lower lip into her mouth, then sweeping her tongue in to feel the softness of the skin behind it. She sipped at his upper lip, and moaned when he captured her lower between his teeth. The tiny bite of pain was immediately soothed by his tongue, which she moved to intercept with her own.

With her legs looped behind him, her pelvis tilted just so and she could feel the hard length of him lying hot against the outer lips of her sex. Phryne rolled her hips, sliding her damp folds along his cock. She whimpered at the sensation, and Jack’s hands slid down to grasp her hips and help her move.

Biting her lip, Phryne lifted her mouth away, focusing on the slide of his flesh along hers. Between his pressure and her own, his cock was between her folds now, and the friction against her clitoris was quickly ratcheting upward. Jack took advantage of the freedom of his mouth to duck his head and lick one of her nipples, the warm wetness of his tongue a delicious counterpoint to the warm wetness between her legs.

Phryne raised her head, looking down at him; his eyes were closed, and he’d pursed his lips around her flesh. Farther down, she could see the slick red head of his cock between their bodies, appearing and disappearing as she moved along it. 

“Lie back, Jack,” she murmured, and he raised his head, his eyes opening to see hers. His gaze was blurry with arousal and his lips were slightly swollen from her kisses and his own. 

“Phryne?”

“Lie back,” she repeated, lifting her hips and pushing against his shoulders so that he’d move fully onto the bed. 

As soon as he’d stretched out, she settled down on top of him again, this time on her knees. She continued to pulse her hips against his, her hands resting against his chest, her fingers toying lightly with his nipples. His breathing was uneven, and he stroked his hands up to cup her breasts. Even after having made love so many times, the way he touched her breasts still made Phryne gasp. He always paid attention to the undercurves, touching them softly with his fingertips and weighing them against his palms before lightly pinching her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Phryne looked down at him, loving the way that he kept his eyes on his hands, seemingly mesmerized, even as she teased his cock. Quite suddenly, she couldn’t wait any longer. She raised herself up on her knees, trailing one hand down his body to grasp his cock. Drawing him carefully downward, she rotated her hips to circle the soft head around her clit before moving him into position. When his cockhead was set at her entrance, she watched his face as she slowly sank down upon him. 

He groaned her name as he entered her, his neck going taut; when he was fully seated, she circled her hips gently against him, stimulating her clitoris and his scrotum with the combined heat of their bodies. Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts into his hands.

“Phryne…” His deep voice got deeper when he was fucking, Phryne had noticed, and the change in timbre was a joy to her. She smiled as she slowly slid up his length and then back down again, grinding against his base when she reached it. “Oh god… so good… love you so much…”

With that last, Phryne’s surges became considerably less controlled. She sped up, her hips pumping against him, and raised her hands to where his lay upon her breasts, catching his wrists again to brace herself. 

“Jack!” His name was torn out of her by pleasure, and she pushed hard against him at groin and chest, hands clenching and neck arching as her orgasm ripped through her. She opened her eyes as the spasms passed to see his gaze fixed on her face.

“That is the most beautiful thing.” His whisper was more like a growl, and he surged up against her, his arms sliding around her back. 

Phryne’s hands slid up his arms to twine around his neck, her fingers spearing into his hair. Her muscles were loose, but she could still feel the hard length of him inside her. Wanting to see him shatter too, she pressed her lips to his neck, trailing kisses up the strong tendon there. She began to move again, her hips gliding against him. Trying to keep the movements of her hips slow, she put her focus on tracing her tongue around the outer shell of his ear, dipping occasionally in to trail along the inner ridges. She felt him shudder slightly, and groan her name; his hands moved to her bottom, urging her to move faster, but she resisted. 

“I love you, Jack,” she breathed, imagining her breath swirling around the whorls of his ear like smoke before sinking into his head. On the soft click of the consonant at the end of his name, she drew his earlobe between her teeth, laving it with her tongue and then sucking lightly.

“Fuck,” Jack’s curse was percussive, and with a sudden jerk, he rolled them, covering her body with his. Raising his head, he tilted a look at her, and she smiled, delighted to have made him lose control. “You…”

“Oh yes, Jack.” She said, smiling. “Fuck. Me.”

“You are a menace,” he growled, beginning to thrust, long and slow.

“And you love it,” she agreed. She bent her knees, setting her feet flat on the bed to widen her hips.

“I am a fortunate man.” 

She laughed at that, the sound turning into a moan as he applied himself to his rhythm. He set one elbow on the bed beside her shoulder and pulled his other hand down her chest, pinching her nipple lightly as he stroked past her breast. He held her eyes as he turned his hand and burrowed it between their bodies to place his fingers on her clit. She whimpered; the combination of his cock stroking in and out, root to tip and back again, with the slide of his fingers as he circled them against the already sensitized knot of nerves was exquisite.

She kept one hand in his hair, grabbing it tight—something she knew that he loved—and trailed the other downward. She traced his ear—the one she hadn’t already tormented—trailing beyond it to his cheekbone, then stroked down his jaw to the small cleft in his chin, his day’s beard growth slightly scratchy against her fingers. On down his neck then, fingers light on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and feeling the vibrations of his voice at the base of his neck as he groaned her name. His rhythm was becoming choppier now, long strokes alternating with short, sharp thrusts or deep pulses, and she reveled in it, watching his face.

He’d closed his eyes, his attention obviously on the sensation of their bodies coming together, and she loved the furrow in his brow, the glimpse of his teeth as his mouth fell open, the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Her soft caresses moved down farther, stroking across his chest to lightly circle his nipple, her fingernails scraping gently across the pebbled flesh. Eyes on his face, she pinched his nipple softly, her other hand clenching in his hair, and then he was coming, his final thrust hard and deep, the warmth of his release within her palpable. 

His face as he came was beautiful, his cheeks flushing, the lines around his eyes deepening as he squeezed them shut, his jaw clenching to keep his shout contained. Whatever it was that made him so very attractive when he was in control was quadrupled for Phryne when he lost that control, and just the sight of him shattering with pleasure sent her pelting over the edge for a second time.

With a grunt, Jack collapsed, rolling with her again to lie on his back, Phryne sprawled atop him. She laid her head on his shoulder, one hand flat against his chest; she loved the feeling of him softening inside her, second only to having him hard inside her. _Well, maybe third, as orgasms have much to recommend them._ She smiled at her own thoughts even as she arched into Jack’s hands as they stroked her back warmly.

“You’ll stay the night, won’t you?” She murmured against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. A sudden thought struck her. “Did you eat supper?”

“I…” He paused, and Phryne lifted her head to look at him. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was thinking back. “I don’t think I did, actually. I didn’t even think of it.”

“Well, come on then,” she said, dropping a kiss to his lips as she pushed away from him, letting him slide out of her body. He let out an inarticulate protest, his arms tightening for a moment, then letting go. “Let’s go raid the pantry. If we don’t, you won’t be able to sleep.”

“I was comfortable,” he mumbled, but he rose, following her to the bathroom to clean up. She watched as he pulled a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer of the bureau, and then shrugged into his robe, which hung just inside Phryne’s closet. 

Phryne studied him as she tugged a short, amber-satin slip-style nightgown over her head, then pulled on her silver-and-black robe. He looked better, more like himself, though she could tell that he was exhausted. Between the crying jag and their lovemaking, he likely had used up all of his reserves. She’d get him something to eat, then tuck him into bed—and herself with him. A good night’s rest would do him good.

She blinked and found Jack watching her; he stepped closer as she tied the robe’s fabric belt. “I love that robe when you wear nothing underneath it,” he murmured, tracing a finger along the wide V of the robe’s neckline, and bumping across the scoop where the nightgown covered most of her chest.

“So do I.” She lifted on her toes to kiss him softly. “But Mr. B was concerned about you—it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s still up. I don’t mind scandalizing him, but there’s no need to be cruel.” Her smile was sly, and Jack returned it. 

She slid her hand into his, their fingers intertwining, and they headed down to the kitchen. She’d been right—Mr. Butler sat at the kitchen table, nonchalantly polishing the silver tea set that Phryne almost never used. She gave him a small smile, which he returned.

“Mr. B, Jack managed to miss supper. Is there anything in the house that can ease a starving man?” She laughed as Jack sputtered out a denial of the urgency of this request, and Mr. Butler’s smile widened.

“Of course, miss,” he said, setting his polishing aside and moving to wash his hands. “I have some roast beef that will do nicely for sandwiches.” 

“You’re a gem, Mr. B.” Phryne pushed Jack down into a chair at the table and moved to pull down the tin of shortbread that Dot had made the previous day. Setting it on the table, she pulled a napkin from the sideboard and sat beside Jack just as Mr. Butler set a plate with two thickly stacked sandwiches in front of him. 

As Jack dug in with a murmur of thanks, she exchanged a glance with her butler. Mr. B’s eyebrows went up in inquiry, and she nodded reassuringly. He flashed a relieved smile, and Phryne returned it. She loved that her butler cared about Jack so much—he’d obviously been worried, and she rather thought he’d had the sandwich ingredients ready in case food was needed. 

Mr. Butler poured a tall glass of milk and set it beside Jack’s plate, looking pleased at the fact that Jack had devoured almost half of what he’d been served already. 

“If you don’t need anything else, miss, I’ll head off to bed.”

“I think we’ll be fine, Mr. B. Thank you.”

*****

Jack looked up and smiled at the older man. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Butler. This is delicious. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.” 

“You are very welcome, inspector,” Mr. Butler’s voice was warm. “I’m pleased that you’re looking more like yourself.” He nodded to them both and withdrew.

Jack turned surprised eyes to Phryne. “If Mr. Butler was concerned enough to mention my improvement, I must have been quite a sad sight.” He sobered, thinking of his state of mind when he’d arrived this evening.

She reached out and rubbed his arm, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You had reason,” she murmured.

He sighed heavily. “I’ll miss her. Elsie, I mean.”

“Of course you will.”

“Have I ever told you about the first time I met her?” He slanted a look at Phryne, a small smile ticking up one corner of his mouth. Lifting the first half of the second sandwich to his mouth, he took a bite, and the flavors of rare beef and horseradish mingled agreeably on his tongue. 

“No, I don’t believe you have,” she said, pulling her chair closer so that she could tuck in beside him. “Though I remember she told me once that she’d been your first arrest?”

Jack laughed softly. “She was. It was almost twenty years ago—my first night on the job. I was patrolling somewhere in Collingwood, and I heard shouting. As I turned to investigate, two men came pelting out into the street, both of them with their hands up to protect their heads.” Jack lifted his hands, crossing them over his head in illustration. 

“And here comes this virago—five feet nothing in her bare feet—running out behind them with a cast iron frying pan lifted high over her head.” He shook his head. “She was screaming ‘Get out’ and ‘How could you?’ as she chased them; one of the two tripped almost at my feet, and she _whacked_ him across the buttocks. His howl was tremendous.” 

“She hit him? In front of a constable?” Phryne’s eyes were wide.

“She did. And she was drawing back to hit him again when I caught her arm. I said something like ‘hold on there,’ and she looked up at me as she stopped her swing. Her eyes were furious, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile.” Jack looked down at his sandwich. “I was frankly speechless at the anger on her face, and she told me that her man and this one had hatched a scheme to use her son, who was no more than six, to rob a bank. Apparently they needed someone small to crawl through a culvert and let them in.”

Phryne gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

“But Elsie wouldn’t have it. When she’d heard the scheme, she’d picked up her frying pan and proceeded to beat both men about the shoulders.” Jack smiled a little grimly. “She told me later that she’d never been prouder of herself than in that moment, when she was protecting her son’s innocence.”

“But Jack… you arrested her?” Phryne’s voice was incredulous.

“Mmm,” he said, around a mouthful of sandwich. “I did, for affray. I took her pan away and let her get her boy, then took them and the would-be bank robber in. The man who’d got away was her son’s father; we picked him up the next day.” He swallowed. “But Elsie and Matthew spent the night at the station because she didn’t want risk meeting him at home. With her testimony, both her man and the other went to prison for a number of years.” He shook his head. “We dropped the charges against Elsie the next day, and she took her son home. But thus was a friendship born.”

“However did you manage to avoid Welfare being called in? And how was it that they let Matthew stay with his mother in the cell?”

“Well,” he said sheepishly. “They didn’t exactly spend the night in a cell. They stayed in the front waiting area with me.” He glanced at her and took another bite of his sandwich.

“And I suppose that you conveniently forgot to file her arrest papers or the Welfare information?” Phryne said, a slight smile curving her lips. 

“I really did have trouble with paperwork in those first years.” He winked at her as he popped the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. “Much like an honorary constable I once knew.”

“Ha, ha.” Phryne leaned in to nudge his shoulder for his cheek. “Drink your milk, inspector, and let’s go back to bed.”

Jack raised his glass to her and drank his milk down, then pushed away from the table to carry his plate and glass to the sink and rinse them. When he turned back to her, Phryne was standing beside the table, and she reached out her hand to him.

Jack took her hand and, stepping forward, bent to put his lips to it. She shivered a little as he held her eyes, a tremor seeming to travel up her arm as his mouth warmed her skin. And when he turned her hand over in his and pressed kisses first to the inside of her wrist, and then to her palm, she drew in a shaky breath. Straightening, he laced his fingers with hers, trapping that kiss between their hands, and tugged her toward the stairs.

They didn’t speak until they were back in her boudoir and had shed their robes to climb into bed. Jack pulled Phryne close in the darkened room, burying his nose in her hair and breathing deeply in.

“Thank you, love,” he whispered, and he felt her shift against him.

“What for?” She cuddled closer, wrapping an arm around him.

“For being here. For being you.”

“Well, I can’t help the latter, I’m afraid, so I’m glad it pleases you.” He could hear the thread of laughter in her voice, though her tone was loving. He chuckled a little. “And as for the former…” He felt the press of her lips to the skin over his heart, and her voice dropped to a murmur. “I’ll always want to be here when you need me.”

She shifted to wrap a leg over his, surrounding him with her warmth. “Go to sleep, darling,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

With an exhausted sigh, he closed his eyes and breathed her in. The knowledge that she would be his bastion, that she would catch him if he should falter, made it easy to give in to sleep. He kissed her hair, feeling his body relax. His belly was full, his heart felt emptied of the grief he’d carried in, his desire was sated, and he held Phryne Fisher in his arms. _All’s right with the world,_ Jack thought muzzily as he dropped off gently into sleep.


End file.
